“If you won’t talk to us here, Miss Linley, then you’ll have to come with us.”
“Over my dead body.”
“That can be arranged,” said the man who had so far left the talking entirely to his northern friend. He pulled out a pistol and quickly attached a silencer to it. Waving it towards the open doorway he continued, “You can walk out to our car, quietly. Or, we will drug you and carry you out.”
“Oh my God, I don’t believe this is actually happening to me. This is quite insufferable. And don’t you think you’re being just a little bit melodramatic? I’m not leaving this flat and that’s final.”
“These situations are always difficult, and we don’t much care for the methods either. But they do get the job done, Miss Linley. Old fashioned they might be, but tried and tested they are. Now what’s it to be? Walk out of here in a dignified manner. Or would you prefer the needle? However, I must tell you that if you decide not to be sensible I cannot guarantee your well-being. You see, my friend over there has a liking for the more mature women. Unfortunately for you, he also has a sexual inadequacy complex. You see, he is only able to perform when his victim is in an unconscious state.” His eyes shifted slyly sideways.
Issy picked up a vase and hurled it towards them but it missed by a mile and was a futile gesture anyway.
“It would seem that my little warning hasn’t had the desired effect. The needle it is then,” said the man with the badly disguised northern accent.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Dillon spent the following morning running to ground a Detective Sergeant he knew in the Metropolitan Police, who managed to wangle access to the original Brinks Mat robbery files. Dillon was in the archive room for most of the afternoon and after three and half hours felt weary from going through the mountains of records, witness statements, and masses of intelligence that had been gathered over the years. He eventually emerged into the sunshine and headed straight to the nearest pub for a drink and a meal before heading back to The Old Colonial Club. He took his time because there was nothing more he could do until the next morning. He wanted a lot more information than he already had before returning to Dorset.
Eventually, he arrived at the club at around 9.00 p.m, tired and in need of a long hot bath. He phoned Issy, and it was Issy’s friend, Grace, who answered the phone and told him that Issy wasn’t in. Did she know where she’d gone, or what time she was coming back? As far as Grace knew she should have been there when she’d got home; they were supposed to have been going out to dinner that evening. Dillon apologised for disturbing her evening and then said he’d call round. He dressed and left the club.
Dillon had only ever met Grace once before, but remembered that she worked for a prominent firm of stockbrokers in the city, had the figure of a catwalk model and a wicked sense of humour which she put on hold when Dillon arrived. She knew something wasn’t quite right when Issy had asked her if she could stay for a few days — that Dillon’s work meant that he sometimes moved in murky waters and that it was far safer not to ask any questions. Now she was as worried as Dillon.
Dillon casually glanced around the room for anything odd.
“Have you checked around to see whether anything is out of place?”
“That’s the oddest thing. I’m pretty sure the place was in a bit of a muddle this morning when I left. But when I arrived home it was as if professional cleaners had been in.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m pretty sure. I can tell you that this place very rarely looks as good as this.”
“But was everything as you’d expect it to be? Was anything missing or out of place?”
Grace looked worried. “Wait a minute. Do I understand you right? You’re thinking that someone has been in here and then taken her off against her will?”
“It could be, and there are reasons why it’s a possibility. Forgive me for not telling you. It would do you more harm than good if you knew. I admit that it’s something I thought could possibly happen, but never in a million years thought would actually happen.”
Grace had spotted something, saying, “There’s one thing obviously different in this room. A small vase is usually over there on the side table by that chair, but I can’t see it anywhere. Of course it might have been placed somewhere else, but it’s not a very big room, as you can see.”
“Have you got a torch?”
When Grace produced one he went to the front door and closely examined the area around the lock barrel as well as the lock itself. What he found didn’t surprise him — there were scratches around it, some of them deep.
“I’d guess that they picked the lock and and were waiting for her,” he said mostly for his own benefit.
Grace clutched her arms round herself. “That gives me the creeps. What if they decide to come back?”
Dillon gave her his best reassuring smile. “I very much doubt whether they would risk that. And to be honest with you, Grace, it was Issy they were after. Would you mind if I used your phone?”
Dillon rang Havelock disregarding any chance that his phone was tapped or that Grace was listening over his shoulder.
“I think they’ve got Issy,” he blurted out immediately. “I also think that MI5 did it, and if those bastards are listening in they’d better give her back now or I’m going to light a fire under their can and then watch them jump out one by one. Dunstan, use your bloody authority and do something your end.”
“And if it’s not the security service?”
Dillon had thought it through.
“It is. They have better tabs on all Ferran & Cardini field officers and their friends than Hart and Trevelyan put together. They know all about this assignment and for reasons that none of us know about. They want me to hand myself in to them for a little chat and to pull back from the investigation. The fact is, Dunstan, they don’t like playing second best to us mainly because that’s what they are.”
“The others are looking for you too, Jake,” Havelock said quietly. He fully appreciated how Dillon was feeling.
“You don’t have to remind me, Dunstan. Maybe there’s a way I can find out. Do your best.”
He hung up and turning back to Grace, said, “It’s really not as bad as it sounds. But if it’s okay with you, I’d like to phone you each day just in case Issy turns up here.”
“Can’t I call you?”
“No, it would be too dangerous for you. It’ll be best if I contact you.”
Shrewdly Grace said, “It didn’t do Issy any good not having your number, did it?”
Dillon went through to the front door, started to open it, turned and said, “That was a low blow, Grace, but point taken. If I hear anything myself I’ll let you know immediately. Thanks for your help.”
Sitting in the Porsche, he used his mobile phone to call Charlie Hart who answered almost at once. He had long since accepted that as Hart used his phone so freely that he must feel confident with the security setup.
“It’s Jake Dillon. I need an honest answer to a simple question.”
“I was just thinking of you. How, had we met under different circumstances, we might not have ended up as enemies.”
“Possibly. But it was you who made us enemies. I would have happily backed off, but you wouldn’t accept my word of honour. It’s too late now. They’ve taken Isabel Linley. I want her back.”
“Isabel?”
“Someone has kidnapped her. Obviously to push me into a corner. Do you know anything about it?”